


Mile High Cherub

by Sintina



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Crowley's Tongue (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Flying, Flying Sex, Genital Roulette, Inhuman feats of sex, Local Winged Supernatural Entities Spice Up Their Already Amazing Sex Life, Marathon Sex, Mid Air Sex, Multi, Near Discorporation Experiences, POV Alternating, Playful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexy Times, Switching, They Lose Track of Time Up There, Wing Kink, they're switches bitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21886027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina
Summary: "Who said anything about a plane?" Crowley grinned.“You don’t mean…” Aziraphale’s shoulders gave a little shrug, as though flexing his wings.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 134





	1. Why have wings, if not for this?

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I am incapable of writing beatific [ love confession emails](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376678/chapters/50921512) for weeks without needing to also spurt a gluttonous amount of porn out into the world. I need an Intermission of Smut to finish the sweet stuff. 
> 
> Please enjoy! And I'd love some comment encouragement, this one has been such a wily bastard to write! Thank you!

Light-headed and dizzy with orgasm, Aziraphale opened his eyes. He watched a dollop of shining, celestial spunk plummet below his tensing body and briefly considered that even a penny falling from a great height could kill a person. Aziraphale blinked for this miracle, as he didn't presently have use of his hands to snap. His wrists flexed instinctively and Crowley responded by tightening his grip; a clawed pinkie dug a pointed divot in Aziraphale's skin. Crowley drove hard into him, the crests of his hips slapping Aziraphale's ass so soundly his cheeks shuddered. An exhilarating punishment for trying to break free, perhaps? Aziraphale savored the concussive pounding, Crowley's long, lean cock spearing deep to the root of him. 

Still dazed and smiling, Aziraphale mused that in his future erotic memories, the soundtrack of this flight will be a cacophony of air currents. Rushing white noise, like being underwater, is rather what Aziraphale heard a mile in the air, flying naked with his beloved, and getting his brains fucked sideways. For the moment, his angelic audio clarity tuned out the roaring air, focusing on the grunts from Crowley’s mouth, the smack of his hips, and the beating of his wings. With broad strokes that cracked like sails, those gorgeous wings bent the sky itself to the purpose of his demonic thrusts. When Crowley came, Aziraphale could swear he felt sparks darting through the ozone, tiny jolts of lightning that radiated otherwise peaceful clouds. Aziraphale tasted the pulse of energy across his palate and gasped.

Crowley’s free hand—which had been planted firmly between Aziraphale’s wings, pressing the angel forward, controlling the angle of his body—began rubbing soft circles, the heel swirling lazily into his muscles. Crowley's fingers splayed through Aziraphale's messy feathers. His other hand released its firm grip on Aziraphale’s wrists. Aziraphale exhaled and drooped forward, letting his arms fall limp. Crowley was still inside him and the pressure hummed up his spine as he shifted. Aziraphale whined and then Crowley’s sinewy arms were hugging around his upper torso and under his armpits, fingers meeting over his breastbone. 

“Com’n up, angel.” He pulled, leveraging a gentle tilt of his hips to the task. Aziraphale tucked his own wings around himself, so he could be pulled as flush to Crowley’s chest as possible. Once upright, his head lolled back onto Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley’s wings didn’t appear to be keeping them aloft any longer; they were floating, rather than flying. That was nice. Crowley’s skin pressed the layer of feathers between them, warming all the way through to Aziraphale’s spine. His head finally started to feel less hazy. 

“Dearest,” he rasped and nuzzled his temple along Crowley’s jaw. 

“Mmm,” Crowley answered, squeezing him, his fingers idly massaging Aziraphale’s pecs. 

Aziraphale sighed. “You have the loveliest ideas.”

~48 Hours Ago~

Crowley brought it up one mild afternoon, over tea and scones, like he was discussing the next restaurant they might want to sample. It was the only way to go about it, really. Aziraphale always responded better to casual temptation; the angel didn’t like Crowley to be too devious. 

“Airline travel is such a bother,” said Aziraphale, crinkling his nose. “I’ve always thought the whole ‘mile high club’ business sounded like too much trouble for an adventurous shag.” 

“Who said anything about a plane?” Crowley smiled, waiting for the angel to catch on. It took several moments until he saw Aziraphale’s eyes widen. 

“You don’t mean…” Aziraphale’s shoulders gave a little shrug, as though flexing his wings, and Crowley could feel the shift in the ether around them, the great mass of them adjusting. He could also smell something salacious like lust in the air and his lips curled. Just as quickly, Aziraphale’s lust was shuttered, as if the angel had spritzed floral air freshener to mask the scent. Aziraphale clicked his tongue and said, “Absolutely not.”

“Anngelll,” Crowley whined. “Why not?” 

“Well, for starters, you said you were suggesting something we’d never done before. We’ve certainly tried that already.” 

“Have not!” 

“We have! I hit my head on the ceiling fan and I’m not looking forward to repeating the experience.” Aziraphale tugged at his waistcoat and sat up straighter, as though his posture would lend severity to his pronouncement. 

“Not the way I'm suggesting,” Crowley set his scone down. Aziraphale wasn’t hearing a word he said. Next time he’d certainly have to be more direct. 

“Well. I suppose I am not sure I appreciate the distinction.” Aziraphale didn’t like this game. Crowley could tell he was trying not to pout, but it was a near thing. 

Crowley huffed. He’d never get what he wanted if this turned into an argument, but if he could just tease a bit more, just one more nudge. “That time was really more hovering than flying. And besides, I’m not talking about being indoors, angel.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes became geometric circles. “Oh.” He swallowed. “My.” His brow soon crinkled, cleary overthinking it already. “I don’t know, my dear.” 

“Afraid, are you?” 

“How dare you?” Aziraphale stood. “I am not so easily frightened.” 

“Oh?” Crowley remained seated, but planted both feet to the floor. “Then why not?”

“What you're suggesting is dangerous, for our bodies, if not for us.” Aziraphale cleared the dishes from their coffee table, carrying them to the kitchen sink. Crowley followed, as the angel kept speaking while he walked. “These are the last corporeal forms we're ever likely to have.” 

“Sounds like fear to me, angel.” Crowley leaned on the counter, a cool, inviting cant to his hips. 

Aziraphale studied him, unimpressed. “Don't be such an insufferable crum bum, my dear.” 

“Calling my bum names isn't helping your case." Crowley’s mouth took a turn from a smirk to not quite a pout, he wouldn’t allow a pout. Maybe he’d read this wrong? "Do you truly not want to?"

"Dearest." Aziraphale softened. "I didn't say that." He stepped close, his hands rested flat on the counter to either side of Crowley’s body. "I think it's a fun idea. I only have some reservations.” His eyes glinted playfully and Crowley resumed melting. He loved Aziraphale caging him in with that broad body like this. And he could _feel_ Aziraphale loving it too. His angel grinned, triumphant. “We must simply discuss precautions as we would with any other new and untested extracurriculars. Hmm?"

Crowley perked up. He kissed Aziraphale prettily on the lips with a gentle, smacking ‘mwuah’ sound. “Yes, please.” He nodded approval and the tip of his nose nuzzled the side of Aziraphale’s. 

~24 hours ago~

Azriaphale insisted on a dress rehearsal. “Flying together, a mile high, without any of the hanky panky,” were his parameters. He had them run through miracles they’d need to maintain. Protecting their corporations from the cold was imperative, but also the thinness of the air, the noise. Aziraphale struggled to imagine maintaining so much while being so lost in one another, but felt enticed by the challenge. Crowley appeared to be buzzing with anticipation. Indeed, subjecting their bodies to humanly-impossible experiences seemed to be a demonic aphrodisiac. 

As they settled their respective miracles, got comfortable, Crowley smirked at Aziraphale. "You're adorable, you know?" He teased and swished his wings, angling himself directly into Aziraphale's space. “All this planning.” He hovered, his body sliding sensually up and down Aziraphale’s. 

“Crowley, dear.” Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley’s shoulders, holding on, and letting the wind move them as one. He tried to keep a less-than-sexual distance and failed as his body ebbed and flowed against Crowley. “Listen. Everything I’ve read about kink says a complex scene takes careful planning, especially one as potentially dangerous as you’ve suggested.”

“Mmm. Didn’t say your efforts weren’t sexy.” Crowley’s fingers played the keys of Aziraphale’s ribs down to his waist. “In fact, you ought to be rewarded.”

Aziraphale laced his fingers with Crowley’s before they trickled lower over his hips. He gave the soft hands and sharp knuckles a squeeze. “Now. Before we go any higher, clothes off, they’re just going to whip our corporation’s skin to shreds if we wear them up there. And have you… unmade your effort?”

“Anatomically incorrect, as requested,” Crowley cupped the flat, empty space where any genitals might otherwise have been. Because Aziraphale’s eyes followed, he gave a quick squeeze to watch the angel fluster.

“Thank you." Aziraphale nodded. "Okay, let’s try this.”

Their wings thrummed and beat, creating their own tight vortex of energy and pressure, as they ascended together, circling one another. Sharing the currents back and forth, rising and falling on one another’s wind, was more intimate than breathing each other’s air between kisses. The life and death potential of plummeting to the earth if they weren’t in sync didn’t hurt one’s endorphins and adrenaline either. Crowley was laughing and whooping through their climb. His wings unfurled to their massive span, catching an updraft. Azriaphale's whole being hummed with arousal and affection at the sight of Crowley resplendent in his element. He swore he saw daytime stars come out and twinkle in the blue sky at the closeness of their creator. He and Crowley had very rarely been naked together with their wings out. Grooming didn’t count. When they sat cross legged together, or spread out on some furniture, massaging through each other’s feathers, Aziraphale was not afforded the sight of Crowley’s musculature like this. The way he rippled and flexed in flight! His body flowing with his wings, naked skin glowing in the sun and contoured with shadows of nearby clouds, this was Crowley carefree and wild. Aziraphale wanted him so badly, he was angry at the serpent for not suggesting this sexual escapade sooner. 

They slowed, flirtatious as they danced through the air, climbing the last few wing-beats to their destination, a pocket of space Aziraphale had determined was not on any major or minor flight itineraries for today or tomorrow. Or if it was, those trips found themselves oddly rerouted. When the cold started to bite the deeper layers of their skin, they miracled their bodies a radius of warm, temperate air to survive in, as well as a sort of thick-skinned immunity to cold, just in case. When the roar of the wind became deafening, they miracled their ears impervious to the pressure, the decibels of the noise. Neither would be shouting over the din of the mighty winds at this height. Now, they could hear every word as though whispered into each other's ear. They were stretching their ethereal abilities to manipulate sound waves. And damn, if that wasn't just another turn on for them both. The impossibility of it all!

Crowley wanted to test how distracting some ‘inappropriate’ contact might be, for science, or to see if the miracles held, whichever. He gripped Aziraphale roughly by the hips and pulled him in. Their wings canted perpendicular to their bodies, comfortably flapping lazily, and making room for their other limbs to play. So far, so good. Crowley ran a flat, firm palm up through Aziraphale’s fine chest hair and rested his fingertips in the valley atop the angel’s clavicle. He pet his fingers side to side, staring at Aziraphale’s eyes, his lips, the way the wind made his soft curls dance.

"What?" Aziraphale asked. 

"You're gorgeous up here," Crowley confessed, fingers in Aziraphale's windswept curls. Then he looked sheepish, "Not that, I mean, you know you're gorgeous everywhere, just..."

Aziraphale kissed him. "I was just thinking the same about you, dear. I believe you are truly in your element up here." 

Crowley tugged him close and they kissed. And kissed. Their bodies got a bit sideways as their wings began to grapple with one another’s air in a game of balance. They gave into it, let themselves sway backwards, almost upside down, and side to side with the airflow. Aziraphale’s hands cupped Crowley’s perfect little arse cheeks and hauled him in, grinding as he did. Crowley gave up the battle between their wings and folded his down his back so Aziraphale carried them both. The angel rocked his hips again into Crowley’s lap.

“Oh yes, this is going to be exquisite,” he murmured into Crowley’s ear. Crowley clung his arms tight around those broad shoulders, careful of the mighty wings.

“Concur,” he said, and nipped the side of his angel’s neck. “All the miracles are holding up, so far.” Crowley undulated as though riding Aziraphale. “Should we practice some other positions? Flying, I mean." He cleared his throat. "Staying aloft in other positions?”

"Of course, dear." Aziraphale smirked. 

They did. First they cycled through the classics, laughing and poking fun at one another as the wing adjustments proved awkward, but ultimately manageable. Then they thrilled to find new ways of potentially interlocking, inversions which would be very difficult on the ground, with hard surfaces to contend with. It was euphoric and ridiculous. They were high on their sexual experiments, and perhaps the thin oxygen and altitude was going to their corporations’ heads just a bit. That was all part of the buzz.

They descended, hand in hand this time, confident in their ability to make this work tomorrow. As soon as they touched down, they remade their efforts and made hurried, passionate love in the grass. At first, in the throes, they kept their wings out. But had to put them away, here on the ground, because leaves and grass and the confines of the space restricted them. And oh. What a build up of anticipation that simple containment caused for the rest of the day and night. 

~3 hours ago~

“Don’t move anything else.” Crowley commanded. “Just your wings.” Aziraphale couldn’t tell if he was serious. They’d reached their mile-high spot again, efforts at the ready to do this for real. Then Crowley had paused for an agonizingly long minute. Crowley’s eyes mapped Aziraphale’s body with strange intensity, as if recharting territory, adding new routes for exploration. Aziraphale’s cock responded to the scrutiny with eager impatience. 

Besides the uncontrollable interest of his effort, Aziraphale tried not to move any un-feathered body part. Crowley had a vivid imagination when it came to lovemaking and Aziraphale was fast learning to trust that lovely mind. He hoped curling his toes didn’t count against him. His heaving wings forced space between them, keeping Aziraphale on display, seen but not touched. Aziraphale soon got comfortable with it, his wings turning down and lazily flapping while he willed his arms and legs to hang at ease, to bob and float as they may. Crowley wet his lips.

“There you are, angel. Stay still.” Crowley said, eyes tracking downwards. Desire roiled beyond Crowley's corporation in palpable ripples, the energy edged Aziraphale’s exposed skin. Crowley reached forward and grabbed Aziraphale by the cock. Aziraphale gasped to find Crowley’s clutch warm and wet, he struggled to keep his arms and legs at ease. Crowley reeled him in, just close enough, shaft skin sliding deliciously as Crowley pulled him forward. Crowley loosened his grip when he deemed Aziraphale close enough. And then, oh. The beating of Aziraphale’s broad wings carried him in an undulating motion, up and down, a little back, a little forward. His cock slid in and out of Crowley’s slick grip, and Crowley’s fingers chased him, curling and releasing. 

“Brilliant,” Aziraphale whispered, overcome. He watched Crowley’s face as he fucked Crowley’s hand with only the beat of his wings. Crowley’s mouth was open, tongue just past the gate of his teeth, his eyes mischievous and eager. His naughty fingers played with the tip and dabbled in precum. Aziraphale strained not to reach forward for an embrace or to kick his legs when Crowley’s other hand gripped the base of him. He swallowed and let his legs splay wanton and wide, every chord and tendon seized tight. The air current tickled and cararessed the nakedness of his inner thighs and exposed crotch. The unfamiliar titillation was an unexpected bonus, though those tickles made him struggle not to squirm. He remained as still as Crowley ordered, only adjusting the rhythm of his wings, arching his shoulders and chest toward Crowley as his wings churned his sex perfectly within Crowley’s clever hands. 

\-------

“That’s it, angel,” Crowley purred, feeling him throb and watching his angel’s body flush and flex. Carried and suspended in flight, Aziraphale’s musculature and soft folds moved in a dance with gravity that wasn’t possible in their bed, against a wall, or in any configuration he’d had his angel before. This vision, like an over-sexualized renaissance painting of an angel, was exactly what Crowley had wanted when he suggested all this. Aziraphale’s body was buoyant and free, he looked comfortable, yet so strong, with his chest and shoulders heaving, his wings pulling his torso taut. The tug and release of his pecs was fucking mesmorizing. 

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale gasped, his eyes pinched with pleasure, then blown open. He found and held Crowley’s gaze. “My dear. I want you inside me like this.” 

Fuck. Crowley’s body snapped forward with urgency that threw off their cadence. His wings brushed Aziraphale’s. They had to correct themselves. Crowley reluctantly released Aziraphale’s pumping, warm shaft, and the angel’s hands reached out and gripped Crowley’s forearms to steady himself. 

Once they’d recovered, Crowley cleared his throat. “Love to. Perfect idea. The angle might be hard with both our wings out and the air currents… and…” He took Aziraphale back in hand, his fingers greedy for the angel’s release. 

Aziraphale bit his lip, “I don’t care,” he hummed a long, high chord as Crowley’s thumb worked over his head, “We don’t actually have to use our—” cut off by a squeezing stroke—“Ah! Wings! We don’t actually have to use our wings to fly, you know.” Aziraphale demonstrated by ceasing the beating of his own and hovering, the throbbing of his cock their only connection. The breeze ruffled his curls and feathers alike, a beautiful little flutter of all things soft and angelic. Crowley was powerless and possessive and starving at the sight. He surged forward and seized Aziraphale with an arm hugging around his midsection. 

“Remember darling,” Aziraphale cooed. “Don’t move anything but your wings.” The angel tucked his own down his back, out of the way, as Crowley adjusted and lifted his body to meet Aziraphale.

It was shockingly easy, coming together up here. They both gasped and Crowley growled when he slid right in, not just because of the usual slick and open miracle. There was no resistance between or around them, nothing for leverage but one another’s bodies. The new sensation was overwhelming: nothing to feel, nothing to touch, but his angel. Crowley's entire body was in sharp, sensual focus on the sex, the thrusting, the heat, the skin of them together. Crowley tightened his arm around Aziraphale’s waist, then pumped his wings a few experimental times, letting the pull of gravity and the wild, whipping air thrust him erratically in and out of his angel. Aziraphale seemed lost and overwhelmed, eyes scrunched shut, breathing hard. 

His panting was a spectacular sight. Crowley loved the way Aziraphale's exhales formed perfect little vapor clouds between them, swirling around as their breaths condensed. Crowley thrust deep, forcing another tiny, puffy cumuli from between the angel's swollen lips. It rippled away into wisps and joined larger collections of water droplets all around. Ever the creative, Crowley made Aziraphale gasp again and again, changing up his thrusts, watching a steady steam of clouds huff from Aziraphale's moaning mouth.

Crowley smiled a rather dopey, embarrassing smile. Fortunately, Aziraphale didn't notice as he arched his face away, torso rising and his strong sternum jutting toward Crowley. Aziraphale’s hips rocked up and inward, moving Crowley inside him just the way he wanted. His hands were in his own curls as he rocked, an erotic tableu, and Crowley couldn’t handle how hot he looked. As if in answer, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s biceps, pulling himself flush, clamping those dense thighs around Crowley’s hips, and ground himself onto Crowley's cock with all his might. 

“Oh fuck me,” Crowley leaned his forehead against Aziraphale’s breast, trying not to come. “I hate... being right... all the time.” 

Aziraphale tried for a long-suffering scoff, Crowley knew, but it came out as a breathy laugh. In answer, Crowley beat his wings in earnest, his body slamming up into Aziraphale at an angle he wasn’t sure was quite right, but felt _incredible._ Aziraphale sang out and bore down, clenching and pawing as the steady beat of black wings pulled Crowley out again and careened him home, exactly right on the next few thrusts. 

“I will!” Aziraphale cried. 

“Huh?” Crowley’s claws started to sprout and he was trying not to rend the angel’s flesh as his fingers sought to cling and pinch. 

Aziraphale’s eyes burned a blue that pierced like sunbeams. He glowed down at Crowley in ecstasy, “I will have you like this,” he ordered. Then keened on another particularly accurate surge of Crowley’s wings. Aziraphale was much louder than usual and Crowley couldn’t get enough. He was hypersensitive to it all, about to lose himself, his thoughts melting away into primal need. Crowley could feel Aziraphale straining not to come. The smell and sense of rising orgasm enticed him to taste the air with flicks of his tongue. He sampled the scent of Aziraphale's lust and precum and suddenly didn't want to finish this way. Crowely wanted to feel what his angel was feeling now, to be fucked like this, with the weight of Azripahale all around and inside him. Crowley swallowed and decided to be a brat about it. 

“Do it then.” He thrust too shallow, teasing, and smirked. 

With a throaty sound, Aziraphale pressed down on Crowley’s shoulders, shoving himself away and off of Crowley’s cock with determination. Oh, this was going to be good. 

“Tuck your wings close to your back,” Aziraphale ordered. He manhandled Crowley, exactly the way the demon loved it, and turned him round. With a firm hand at the base of his spine and another in Crowley’s long hair, Aziraphale pushed him down, and with a hard snap of his wings, was inside him, just like that, bending him over nothing. What a dizzy, disorienting feeling it was to be suspended, held aloft only by Aziraphale’s hands and his cock. 

The thrwaping of the angel’s wings was brutal. The air coursed and slapped Crowley’s legs as he screamed, hollering obscenities and Aziraphale’s name to the deaf, unfeeling clouds. The angel’s dull, blunt nails somehow found purchase in a cleft of Crowley’s spine. Crowley caught himself panting, kicking, trying to get away and get closer all at once. 

Crowley thrilled at the sensation of having nothing to cling to, nothing to lean on besides Aziraphale’s strength and the weight of his thrusts. His hands scrabbled instinctively for sheets to clutch, his body grinding down on a mattress that wasn’t there. The empty sky meeting his fingers and torso sent a thrill of danger through him. He reached up over his shoulders to clutch the elbows of his own wings, instead. The strange self-hug, fingers full of feathers, kept him relatively balanced against the onslaught of Aziraphale. Then Crowley opened his eyes. It was a good thing he was holding onto his wings because the falling sensation was so strong they attempted to pop open to catch him. His eyes watered at the powerful updrafts carrying their coitus. Crowley stared down at passing clouds, and far below them, lonely, frozen mountain peaks. 

His legs wrapped backwards around Aziraphale to hold himself up, thighs clinging to the angel’s hips, calves digging into the angel’s thighs. For his part, it didn't feel like Aziraphale was moving anything but his wings, so Crowley was in effect holding them both in place, keeping them connected. Aziraphale grabbed one of his hips for balance and they dangled on this precipice of nothing, the laws and forces of nature, nothing but one another. It was almost impossible to feel like physical beings up here, like this, and their occult and ethereal essences were soon glowing and writhing beyond the confines of their skin. Crowley had sprouted scales over his ass cheeks and down the sides of his ribs. Aziraphale idly rubbed them with a thumb. Still he fucked him. Still he cupped them close together, his wings steady and strong and enduring this peculiar conjoined flight. 

Aziraphale suddenly slowed, as if whatever possessed him to take and consume had been sated. His wings rocked gently in a soft breeze of sensation, barely moving his hips at all. Crowley bucked involuntarily beneath him, the shift of momentum too much at once, his body still enraptured with the pounding. As his wits came back to him, Crowley let out a sob of pleasured air, which perhaps had been stuck somewhere around his belly button, too heartily pummeled before now to be released. He rolled his abs and pelvis, rocking himself smoothly on Aziraphale’s cock, seeking more of that punishing pace. 

Aziraphale shushed and soothed him with caresses down his spine, over his wing joints, and along his ribs. As easily as he shoved Crowley into position earlier, he gripped Crowley’s shoulder and hip and tilted him around, gently gasping at the way the angle of their joining swiveled and rolled. Then he gathered Crowley up to his chest, still careful not to disengage them, his wings still working his body, steady and pleasant and soft, up and down and in and out of Crowley. 

They were both catching their breath. Or trying to remember they didn’t need to. 

Aziraphale hugged Crowley tightly against him, strong arms smushing black feathers rough in some places and soft in others. Crowley’s wings tucked as tightly as they could, but feathers stuck out at all angles and he felt foolish. Aziraphale’s arms were powerful, keeping them both still, save for the continual drumming of his wings, moving them together at their joining. 

The ringing of Crowley’s ears settled to a dull hum and he could suddenly hear Aziraphale, whimpering and crooning into his neck as he kissed: “I love you, I love you, thank you, my darling, thank you, I love you.”

“Hey, hey, angel,” Crowley’s hand reached down to rub Aziraphale’s round hip. “Not giving up now, are you?” 

The answer he got was a bite to the shoulder, followed by, “Of course not, love. Just needed you close. You’re so very dear to me.” 

Crowley nuzzled into the scoop of Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder. He laid a languid pucker of lips on the angel’s cheek. He arched when a draft caught them just right, thrusting Aziraphale deep and hard. Crowley had been on edge for so long, his oversensitive cock pressed between them, humping Aziraphale's belly, and he came with a shout. Aziraphale held him close as the air shoved them together several more concussive times. 

“A-angel…” Crowley swallowed. 

Azirapahale petted down his feathers, his sides, until both hands were cupped under Crowley's cheeks, parting him and tilting their hips to go deeper, and his wings began to drum harder, not faster, just steadily more forceful.

“When you’re done with me,” Crowley panted into Aziraphale’s hair, “You’ve got to try it, angel. There’s nothing like getting fucked face down over the empty air.”

“Oh? I look forward to it, my love.”

Turns out, Aziraphale wasn't done with Crowley for another hour. He took Crowley in languid waves followed by merciless surges, not unlike a calm, flowing river suddenly hitting white rapids. Crowley rode the current of Aziraphale's passion, tossed and tumbled every which way, body at the mercy of the tides. He stopped counting orgasms, his own or his angel's, at three. He's so sex-drunk when it's over that he had to perform a bit of a modified sobering-up miracle. His head needed to stop spinning in order to give Aziraphale what he’d offered.

Aziraphale searched Crowley’s eyes for signs of recovery. When he saw that Crowley had returned from his delirium, Aziraphale’s body language turned smug and prissy, though his voice was oh so soft. “Feeling better now?” Aziraphale asked with a smile.

Crowley nodded and gently took both Aziraphale’s wrists in a firm, one-handed grip. He pulled them up, lifting Aziraphale’s arms over his head. He kissed his angel deep and fierce, claws digging in just enough on those captured wrists to make Aziraphale squeak in the kiss and hum when Crowley pulled away. 

Crowley grinned and crooned: "Yeah, better. Though not quite so good as you’re about to."

With snakebite speed, he released Aziraphale’s wrists, spun him around, dragged his wrists behind him and together again, just above his arse, and pressed hard between Aziraphale’s wings with his free hand. Crowley pushed Aziraphale in half over nothing but the vistas below. "Definitely look down as much as you can, angel." Crowley growled as he rubbed his length slow and dirty between Aziraphale's arse cheeks, teasing, playing, displaying. He could tell the moment Aziraphale opened his eyes, because his angel’s whole body had an instinctive jerk, especially his wings, which tried to snap out.

Crowley gave his wrists a hard squeeze and pressed his flat palm firmly between Aziraphale’s wings. "I've got you." Crowley said as he slid home in a single long, steady stroke. 

~Now~

Aziraphale had to hand it to Crowley. He was right. Sex had never felt anything like that and he would want it again. He would dream of the ecstasy of his body’s fear of falling combined with the steady lovemaking, the harsh fucking, the powerful strength of Crowley keeping him alive and fucking him senseless all at once. 

They had both recovered, it seemed. He could feel Crowley’s humor rising, like he was about to be smart, Crowley always had that way of preening himself up before a joke or a jab. Aziraphale was about to cut him off, but was too slow. 

Crowley kissed his hair and murmured, “This was worth all your preparation yesterday.” 

Aziraphale gave him a gentle elbow to the side. “You want to go down?” He threatened. 

“Not a chance. We live up here now,” Crowley gave a little thrust and a flex of his arms. Aziraphale yelped, then shook his head, smiling, and used his wings to push gently away from Crowley’s body. Turning to face Crowley, Aziraphale crossed his arms and engaged his wings in some prim little flaps, as he looked Crowley’s disheveled, well-fucked nakedness up and down. 

“As there are no books here in our new home, you’ll continue entertaining me, won’t you, dear?” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hip with one hand, while the other got a possessive grip on one cheek of his arse. 

“Ngk,” Crowley answered. Then tried for bravado. “What do we do now?” He stroked his fingers down Aziraphale’s chest. “How do we top that?”


	2. Game Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratcheting up their sexual antics with a little near-discorporation competition!  
> Plus aftercare, cause who doesn't love getting a cuddle on? 
> 
> (Re: 'genital roulette' tag, I stick with he/him pronouns, but they can [and do] make any effort imaginable.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Months! It's taken me _months_ to finish this bugger. It fought me every word of the way, trying to make me indulge my kinks and nonsense fantasies, to be less shy. Well, the fic won, let me tell you. Please tell me if it works for you in the comments. This was a beast of an effort! 
> 
> Also, since I posted chapter one, we descended globally into the worst timeline. I hope you and yours are surviving in this bizarre, horrible new normal. It's been a struggle. Everyday. Every hour. I see you, I believe in you, and I hope your day is made slightly brighter by this smut. I am already picturing people pulling quotes from this to shame me in the future. I’m confident I won’t be electable to public office, thanks to this chapter. I’m also glad I don’t have any living grandparents.
> 
> But hey. You’re welcome for your pornography! Please tell me if you enjoy it. <3 
> 
> Thank you [ Pickleweasel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickleweasel/pseuds/Pickleweasel) and [ Zolac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zolac_no_Miko) for constant support, betas, and your enthusiasm!

Aziraphale grinned at the show between Crowley's legs. And Crowley could smear that grin on toast; lick it off his face like so much jam. It's not like Crowley had much choice in his arousal. His corporation, like most of his possessions, obeyed his whims. As sure as his unplugged fridge kept his whiskey chilled, Crowley's cock perked up at Aziraphale's haughtiness. 

"Don't fret dearest." Aziraphale spoke in a tone reserved for sex or whenever he thought he'd come up with a particularly clever joke. In this case, both. "I shall find a way to _top that_ , as you desire."

Crowley licked his teeth and tsked, refusing to encourage the angel's pun with so much as a chuckle.

“I believe I’ve thought of something,” Aziraphale said, chin tilted up. Those blessed airs, all ‘cleverer than thou,’ worked Crowley up like nothing else and the angel knew it. Aziraphale gazed skyward and his smile broadened. With a nod, he darted a coy glance at Crowley before he pitched a torrent of wind in Crowley’s face; with expanded wings, Aziraphale surged upward in two broad strokes. Up and higher three more beats, his brawny girth tensing and flexing with the flight- before Crowley stopped gawping at the majesty of him- and thought to follow. Crowley's human ears endured a woosh and a suck as he forgot their protection for a moment, but then he really climbed, faster and surer than the angel’s leisurely, powerful ascent. Crowley caught him up and went a bit higher. He crossed his arms, looking down at Aziraphale. He couldn’t be taken seriously with his cock flapping about in the breeze, but he managed a wickedly judgmental eye, all the same.

Aziraphale took a cursory glance at Crowley’s arousal, then smiled, bright and beautiful. “Yes,” he said, “I do have a lovely idea.” He flapped his wings a few times to the side, twirling around and just above Crowley now. Aziraphale bobbed about, teasingly. Crowley gave chase. They sashayed through the air, Aziraphale leading and making Crowley spin in place to keep facing him. 

“What are you playing at, angel?” 

“Well, exactly that.” Aziraphale did a sort of pirouette, his wings swirling around his body. “I’m playing with you, Crowley. Isn’t it lovely?” 

A slow, fond smile spread Crowley’s lips. “Right. ‘Course. Downright whimsical, s’what you are. ” And Crowley made sport of it, mocking Aziraphale’s little spins, trying to grab at him, missing again and again. 

Azriaphale tutted, just out of reach. He clasped his hands behind his back, squared shoulders, looking far too much like his pent up, stuffy counterparts. Except stark naked, and wasn't that a blessed distinction? “Now, my dear, I’ve chosen a game I think you’ll very much enjoy.”

Aziraphale let gravity take him for a second, dropping several dozen meters below Crowley’s feet. The suddenness of it shocked Crowley, the speed and horror of seeing him fall. Crowley’s wings surged on instinct and he dived after him. Of course, Aziraphale caught himself easily, and now spread himself out languidly as though upon the pillowed floor of some lavish boudoir. 

“Pleased with yourself are you?!” Crowley demanded and grabbed hold of Aziraphale’s elbow, grip too tight. “What was that?” He was irrationally afraid of letting Aziraphale try it again. As if they hadn’t just spent hours fucking their way through the jetstream. 

Aziraphale patted Crowley’s hand on his arm dotingly. “I am suggesting,” Aziraphale swallowed and his eyes bore into Crowley with angelic intensity. “That we let gravity take over for a bit.” 

“That would mean…” Crowley looked down, between their bodies, the infinity of empty air and unforgiving ground beneath their toes, “we freefall…?” 

“Yes!” Aziraphale was entirely too chipper. “The game is this: who will reach orgasm first, before we have to catch ourselves?” 

“Before we go splat?” 

“Indeed. Quite!” Aziraphale enthused, grin poking up into his eyes; he clapped his hands at his own brilliance. Crowley had to admit, it wasn’t the kind of idea he expected from his angel. 

“And here you were,” he shook his head, “all this time, preaching about the safety of our corporations…” 

“At this point, darling, I trust our bodies are perfectly safe." He dipped forward, clutched Crowley’s hip and gave it a squeeze. “I think we’ve established our… _buoyancy_ in the moment, as it were. Don’t you?” 

“Heh.” Crowley’s brain was stuck on the absurdity of this. As usual, he’d created a monster. Crowley never tempted Aziraphale to a single act of pleasure the angel didn’t immediately get carried away with enjoying in ways Crowley never even imagined. He shouldn’t be surprised. And he loved the shock of it, every time Aziraphale’s passions and hungers surpassed his own. 

“Now. If you don’t mind,” Aziraphale squeezed him again. “I’m looking forward to coming inside you while in free fall, my dear.” He fluttered backward, looking down once more. “From this height, it should take you just over 90 seconds, I’d wager.” 

“You bastard,” said Crowley. Getting into it, and becoming excited, he changed his effort with a thought. 

“Crowley! That's cheating!” Aziraphale pouted, “You always come so fast with a quim!” 

“I want to win.” Crowley stroked himself, two fingers gliding between plump folds, and watched Aziraphale stare at the slick already glistening in the sunlight, dampening curly hairs around his fingers. 

\--------------------------------

Aziraphale hardened his jaw. The arrogant arse, if Crowley wanted to play that game, Aziraphale would best him, yet. Aziraphale immediately adjusted his corporation. And he got a bit more creative. He manifested slippery vulva where his balls had been, but shrunk his cock only enough to erupt from his labia like a massive, cock-headed clit. Crowley’s expression was delicious as he mouthed at the empty air in anticipation, tongue tasting the scent of Aziraphale’s wetness. 

“Ssssso perfect for me, angel,” Crowley slithered closer, his body undulating like the snake he was, dark wings even going serpentine in their sway. Aziraphale had been fucking him all day and needed to be inside him again, as soon as possible. Crowley’s voice was two shades more demonic, now. “Well, angel. If we’re both playing it thissss way, than it ssshould be most orgasms before we go ssssplat, yess?” 

“Oh my.” Aziraphale wouldn’t give Crowley the satisfaction of losing his composure. “Yes. Please.” 

“And may I also suggest…” With a sharp-angled wave of his wings, Crowley cartwheeled his body upside down, his mouth breathing hot on Aziraphale’s clitoral dick, Crowley’s glistening wet cunt at Aziraphale’s eye level. 

“You brilliant, beautiful, darling creature,” Aziraphale leaned closer with each word of praise and ended the sentence with his tongue laving Crowley’s labia apart in a long, flat lick of pressure. 

“Aaahh…. C-count of three, eh?” Crowley gasped- _how splendid to hear him stammer!_ \- and returned the favor, licking with a teasing, pulsing forked tongue from Aziraphale’s cockhead to the crown of his slit, retracting just before darting inside. 

Aziraphale inhaled to steady himself, then whispered the count of three into Crowley’s thigh, and they fell together. 

\------------

It all happened faster than our mortal minds can comprehend. Faces full of one another’s genitals, they plummeted together, hurtling toward the ground, clinging to one another. Corporeal terror kicked adrenaline through their bloodstreams while they flooded one another’s bodies with pleasure, stimulation upon stimulants. A human would have passed out. 

These two each got off twice before they had to stop midair to save their corporations from certain destruction. So, the game was a draw. Their ninety seconds in heaven felt a bit longer than we would’ve experienced it, thanks to Crowley’s temporal skills.

Crowley had heard of the way ‘time slows down’ during intense moments for humans, details becoming incredibly defined with precision beyond our normal perception. Crowley and Aziraphale’s corporations are modeled after ours, of course. It was a simple job for an imaginative demon to spark a few synapses to extreme levels of alertness, a minor cerebral tweak for the occasion, really. 

The inversion proved an ill-conceived choice for Crowley, in the end. But in the beginning, he wanted to win. Here’s what it was like for him.

\--------

Crowley tongued just inside Aziraphale’s wet cunt while sliding two slick fingers in and out of Aziraphale’s arse in a rapid and delicious fucking that got the angel off quick- warm fluid spurting from cunt and cock at once. And Crowley hadn’t even worked that clit-cock yet! Crowley was very confident in his victory, but he’d forgotten how competitive his angel could be. Aziraphale dug his blunt nails over Crowley’s hips; then his fingers reached Crowley’s folds and pried them open, exposed to the murderous rush of air, and then Aziraphale’s mouth, tongue diving into the heart of Crowley’s body, thumb on his clit, hard, then soft, then circling. His grip shifted, and four fingers- two in each hole- pressed firmly into Crowley all at once. And rather than thrusting, Aziraphale’s thick fingers were rubbing, pressing, rolling. Aziraphale gave one sudden plump-tongued suck on his clit and Crowley was done for. Over the edge and hurtling through the sky to the ground, tears streaked from Crowley’s eyes as he came in a quavering surge. In retaliation and desperation, he forced his cries and gasps around the head of Aziraphale’s clitoral cock. He worked his tongue over the spongy ribs, not as firm as an actual cock, but so much more sensitive. It quivered as it swelled to eagerly fill his mouth. 

It did not surprise Crowley to find Aziraphale an insatiable oral sex giver. What did surprise Crowley was that his dainty epicurean, who always had a napkin at hand to dab his lips throughout a meal, was the _sloppiest_ eater of ass on the planet. Aziraphale was lascivious and wet in his efforts, his plush lips and tongue working Crowley’s hole open and wanton. The mess he made of Crowley, especially in free fall, where Crowley could feel droplets of sex juices spiraling in spatters across his cheeks, was indecent, too much, just right. Aziraphale’s thumb mercilessly massaged Crowley’s clit and two of his fingers slid back and forth along the swollen lips on either side of his cunt. Crowley came hard on his second orgasm, writhing and whining and almost losing his grip on Aziraphale.

Crowley kept sucking Aziraphale’s bulge down into his serpent’s throat as his own body convulsed through that gusher. Crowley’s fingers groped into Aziraphale’s cunt, swirling and searching, then teasing his g-spot which applied pressure to the base of Aziraphale’s clitoral cock that was lodged down Crowley’s throat. When Aziraphale spasmed at the duality of internal and external pleasure, Crowley hugged him tighter, felt the air vacuuming their skin to their bones, useless wings tucked against their backs. As the wind sucked their bodies towards sure destruction, the plush tubular muscles of Crowley’s throat constricted Aziraphale’s girth until he was swallowing Aziraphale’s second orgasm like it might save them both.

Crowley could only swallow and swallow his soundless shouts around Aziraphale’s clit-head. Stars and all that was unholy, Crowley felt too incredible. And when it was over, he realized he’d controlled so many things, even time, that he’d forgotten about the whole blood-rushing-to-the-head thing. He popped his lips off of the cap of Aziraphale’s massive clitoris and tried to will his forehead not to throb as hard as his pulsing labia. 

\----------

They caught themselves. Stopped. Jerked into stillness as their bodies pulsed with the rush. It would’ve been nauseating to lesser beings, but their bodies knew better than that. Suspended in the air, wings and limbs and everything jolted by the sudden defiance of gravity. It was with intention, rather than conscious thought, that they halted their descent. Thus, their wings popped out as if to protest their natural inability to save their hosts, the feathers grumbled into a semblance of hovering, though it did nothing to keep them aloft, floating as they were on willpower, alone. Their corporations were still braced for certain destruction, muscles bunched with tension. Their bodies heaved and breathed, panting as they hung there, less than 1000 meters or so from the earth, so close, so very close now, below them. 

\--------

Crowley could clearly see treetops swaying with the wind below, could almost make out individual leaves, due to the shifting light. He was still upside down, he realized, and a delayed sort of vertigo slid in behind his eyes, overwhelming the other sensations that permeated his faculties. 

Aziraphale laughed, a burst of warmth over his abused genitals and Crowley’s entire body shivered. Aziraphale manhandled him by the waist, righting Crowley so they were face to face and he felt the blood rush away from his head. Crowley was so disoriented he almost forgot to stop his body from being dizzy with a thought. He mumbled some consonants of discomfort. 

Aziraphale shushed him, petting his hair. Lovely angel always knew kisses, long and slow and sweet, were the fastest way to sooth a shaky demon. Crowley luxuriated and drifted. 

“There now,” Aziraphale cooed. “How do you feel, dear heart?” 

Crowley hummed, assessing. How did he feel? Aziraphale rubbed his back, down to the dip of his cheeks and lingered a finger there, not quite a tease, but not innocent either. That felt good. The angel’s other hand splayed across Crowley’s spine, lightly massaging. “Feels grand,” Crowley mused. 

“Splendid! I’m so glad, because I feel wonderful as well, my dear.” Aziraphale’s voice was smiling, that pleasant lilt Crowley loved to hear because it meant the angel was content. “Your brilliant, beautiful imagination, my love,” Aziraphale praised between ardent presses of his lips. “This was exquisite, truly.” 

Crowley was still a touch lost, his eyes felt wobbly, his head full of cotton. Aziraphale’s eyes were searching and Crowley couldn’t focus on making actual eye contact.

“Oh, my dear. Are you sure you’re quite all right?”

“Mhsss,” Crowley sighed through his teeth. Then he lifted his face just enough to speak. “Being inverted should count as a handicap in this game of yours.” He grinned, shaking off his vertigo, at last. “I should get double points for getting you off.” He was feeling better, now his body finally wised-up and started doing as it was told.

Aziraphale tsked. “Perhaps.” He looked thoughtful, his grip on Crowley loosened. “It didn’t occur to me how being upside down for the duration might alter your experience.” Crowley could absolutely smell the pique of the angel’s curiosity as Aziraphale muttered, “These bodies. I swear.”

“Only one way to settle it,” Crowley announced as he shoved off and smirked down at Aziraphale. “Let’s have another go!” He spun in the air, his dark wings a prismatic cape swirling around, popping open like punctuation. “Race you back up!” And Crowley was already beating his wings and climbing.

When was the last time he had fun like this? He wasn’t sure. Since they’d bought their eternity of freedom, they'd entertained themselves in an enormous variety of ways. And not just sexually. They’d even gone so far as to play board games and try video games together. But this? This was more thrilling than his centuries of misadventures. And somehow soothing. Crowley felt relaxation deep under his skin he’d only ever achieved by serpentine hibernation. He heard Aziraphale catching up below him and he smiled, chuckling, feeling alive and... 

From behind, with a whoop of victory, Aziraphale flat-out tackled Crowely midair. Crowley laughed so freely that tears whipped away from his eyes in the wind.

\--------------

Above all other sounds, Aziraphale found Crowley’s laughter to be the most heavenly. He’d become quite adept at conjuring these harmonies. Now, Aziraphale seized his prize, hugging Crowley tight around the middle. He tried to tickle Crowley, to further reward himself for catching his demon at full speed ascent. If they were anywhere else, he’d pin Crowley to the nearest firm surface and use his own feathers to send the demon writhing with giggles so embarrassing in their shrillness that Crowley would deny them later. Up here, the inertia of his tackle sent them tumbling and cavorting through the clouds, neither capable of asserting the upper hand. Ah, yet another delightful discovery! Wrestling was more fun in the air! It appeared they were more evenly matched than usual. Crowley more capable of squirming and wriggling and using his lithe body to full advantage against Aziraphale's holds.

Crowley finally broke free and reminded Aziraphale of the business at hand, “Time for your inversion drop, angel.” Azriaphale’s body sizzled from head to toe, his feathers rustling. Taking Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley tugged him closer, then ducked his head down, looking up through his lashes at Aziraphale as his lips parted and his forked tongue slithered out. Aziraphale was usually left to imagine how devilish Crowley's tongue looked as it laved his body to convulsions. He rarely saw the dirty thing. This brazen display- tongue dancing like a cobra from the basket of Crowley’s soft lips and sharp teeth- made Aziraphale’s own mouth drop open. He grew moist for the memories of that tongue’s luscious, wet attention.

Crowley smiled and flicked his tongue closer to Aziraphale’s skin, but not touching. Crowley’s eyes shone with mischief as his tongue surely tasted how slick Aziraphale was between his thighs. Crowley was showing off, revving Aziraphale up, and finally the angel gave in and moaned. Aziraphale leaned forward, open-mouthed, and wanting. 

“I’ve got you,” Crowley breathed, and leaned back. “Now. Show me that cunny of yours.” With that, and what felt like a small flick of the wrist, Crowley inverted Aziraphale. What a joy to be so tended to! Aziraphale loved feeling weightless in Crowley’s hands. He spread his legs open just enough to give Crowley the view he’d requested. A ‘cunny’ the way Crowley liked best, plump and a bit hairy, curls wet and pressed to thick flesh, Aziraphale’s usual, less _inventive_ , effort of this sort. Feeling pleased with himself, Aziraphale took note of his corporation’s head rush. It’d been slow to start at first, but now Aziraphale provoked it by looking down. And oh my, yes.

As though assessing his every sensation, Crowley pressed Aziraphale’s thigh to get to his attention, and sibilated “Jusssst let go and enjoy thiss,” his fingers stroked down, close, but not quite. “No worrying about taking care of me thissss time.” 

Aziraphale wanted to have the opportunity to reciprocate Crowley’s attentions. But Crowley swiveled around in the air until he ‘stood’ behind Aziraphale, his chest against Aziraphale’s lower back. Aziraphale’s legs tried to hook over Crowley’s shoulders, but he awkwardly kicked into black feathers. Crowley chuckled and gripped the soles of Aziraphale’s feet until he was bending Aziraphale’s knees, spreading the angel’s legs and opening them, knees bent in a sort of squat. An upside down squat, oh this was ridiculous! Aziraphale almost began to protest the absurdity of the position when the forked tips of Crowley’s tongue tickled over his labia. His hips stuttered like the protest on his lips. The sun was shining, lower, nearer to them now- must be setting- because the rays warmed his nethers, exposed and baking as Crowley examined them. Crowley’s scintillating tongue continued to flick and tease him all the hotter.

“Let go now, angel,” Crowley breathed.

And that was all the warning he got. They dropped. 

Aziraphale fell back, (or sideways, as the wind took them), and enjoyed Crowley’s adept attention. On the way down Crowley hit him with all the classics- in supernaturally rapid succession. But it was nothing like at home, the same moves, perhaps, but not like they’d ever felt before.

Tears whisked from his eyes, his curls thrashed back and forth across his brow, and he reached forward on instinct to hug around Crowley, to brace himself, but there was nothing. Crowley was behind him. So, Aziraphale gripped the pits of his knees to hang on and also open himself wider and more wanton for the taking. Crowley indulged this behavior, curling and delving his tongue in and then thickening it, swelling the muscle up so it became a vast, spongy, undulating mass which filled and stretched Aziraphale. Those blessed flickering tips kept vibrating the walls of him as Aziraphale wailed through his orgasm, tossing his head back, digging his nails into the soft skin at the back of his knees. 

When Crowley caught Aziraphale at the end, realization hit as hard as the sudden halt of gravity’s force. Dropping out of the sky head first was so very different! How had Crowley’s talented fingers and tongue been so good at getting him off while poor Crowley was upended like this!? Aziraphale couldn’t even keep his faculties about him. He’d lost the miracle keeping his skin impervious to the freezing temperatures. Sure, it was because Crowley was a literal furnace within him, but still. As he readjusted that miracle to save his corporation, Aziraphale felt garbled, his thoughts as incomprehensible as Crowley’s bebop. 

“Double points,” Aziraphale croaked. “No.” He swallowed. “Triple, dear boy!”

Crowley laughed and licked a celebratory swipe between Aziraphale’s overstimulated folds. Aziraphale shivered and bent upwards, reaching for Crowley to help him right himself. 

“Ah, not yet,” Crowley pushed him backwards with a soft hand on his chest and Aziraphale fell limply upside down again, Crowley’s breath chuckling between his thighs. “Get comfortable, angel, I intend to savor my victory a bit longer.” 

Aziraphale was nothing if not a good sport in defeat. He wrapped his warm wings around himself like a bat, inhaled a deep steadying breath and coaxed, “I’m ready. Do your worst, serpent.”

Try as he might, Aziraphale couldn’t help the overwhelming tipsy lightheadedness of all the blood in his body rolling the wrong direction. And Crowley laved and worked his prehensile tongue wetly over Aziraphale’s clefts, insinuated its flickering tines into his every crease, teasing and ignoring his clitoris by turns. Crowley was methodical, tortuously slow when compared to the maddening speed with which he’d gotten Aziraphale off in their free falls. And finally, finally, he flowed that tongue- long and lean and pulsing and lapping- into him, deeper into him than a tongue should go! Too deep and too full! Where before Crowley had gone for thick and stretching, now his tongue elongated, moving constantly within him, and found all the right spots to rub. Crowley had so much more experience with this equipment. Aziraphale’s eyes once crossed as Crowley explained the difference between a G spot and an A spot and how to stimulate them properly in sequence or simultaneously, and… oh… 

“Fuck! Crowley!” And other undignified sex-shouts poured from Aziraphale, (some as inappropriate and embarrassing as “My stars!”), but he didn’t care. 

The space behind Aziraphale’s eyes felt too large, not quite painful, but a strain at his temples as he writhed and rode it, squirming his hips to get more and more of that tongue. 

And still Crowley held him, fast and hard, not letting him get away. Crowley pressed his face against Aziraphale's cunt, rocking his nose and rotating his chin against the wet heat of over-sensitive skin, while his tongue continued it's maddening thrusts. Crowley’s hands squeezed Aziraphale's buttocks and his thumbs slid between his cheeks, finding his puckered hole and teasing it with soft pressure. His thumbs alternated anal stimulation with what his tongue was doing inside and Aziraphale shouted bloody heaven. He hoped to hear the echo of his cries from the ground, which of course he couldn’t. Instead, all his sounds were encased in the echo chamber of their coupling; he could hear himself for miles in his own mind, and that was enough. Finally, he came in torrents, and begging, wishing, whining, for Crowley to stop and _don’t-ever-stop!_ And he felt Crowley smile against his sex, felt his torso square up with pride behind him, and that flickering, wavering, wildness of his tongue still, slow, and become more placid, tender, steadying within him. Crowley pulled him into less of an inversion, more parallel with the ground. Aziraphale’s wings hung heavy below his prone body, easily jostled by the airflow. Crowley’s impressive demonic strength was more than enough to deal with it. He countered every jolting gust, righting them and keeping his beautiful face and forked tongue to task between Aziraphale’s thighs.

Crowley made it seem effortless, but Aziraphale’s mind thrummed with just how much force he knew it required to give pleasure like this- against the laws of physics and nature. _Oh, fuck Crowley,_ indeed. To be up here fighting reality itself a mile in the air for no reason other than...? Aziraphale came again with more euphoria in the release than before. He felt less strain and struggle, nothing fought him; only the bliss, he melted in it, thrived, floated in and out, sighed, sung- perhaps somewhere, he was singing?- and finally hummed, almost in disbelief, as Crowley disengaged from his body, tongue lapping softly along his inner thighs, as though to lick him clean. The final act felt so sweet that tears tried to crest over the hills of Aziraphale’s cheeks and instead spilled over the sides of his face, down his temples, to his ears. He made shuddering, moaning sounds. And Crowley looked up then, to check on him. 

“Overstimulated, love?” Crowley asked. There was pride in his voice, with a hint of worried undertone. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed, and at Crowley’s pinched expression, he reassured, “and I love you for it.” Aziraphale reached for him, making grabby hands with his fingers. Crowley clasped them and pulled Aziraphale upright, face to face.

“No more free falls, yeah?” Crowley offered. “I think this body’s been trying to have a coronary.” 

“Mine too.” Aziraphale chuckled. They exchanged goofy grins; looking one another in the eye again after _all that_ was somehow rather awkward.

Aziraphale petted Crowley’s tangled waves of hair, combing one thick strand between two fingers, and marveled, “You’re so beautiful.” Crowley closed his eyes and his wings puffed up at the praise; those black feathers could never be called ‘fluffy,’ like Aziraphale’s sometimes were when he was comfortable, but Aziraphale liked how Crowley’s plumage seemed to thicken, have more dense layers, when subjected to admiration. Those inky wings draped low to embrace Aziraphale, followed by strapping, long arms around his ribs. Aziraphale hummed. He tucked himself in close, snuggling tight. 

“Thank you, dearest,” he whispered into Crowley’s hair. 

They held one another. Both were reluctant to descend from the sky, as cool and comfortable as it was for two infinite beings who’d been confined too long to terra firma. Rather, they relaxed, drawing the comfort out and enjoying the physiological alchemy of their bodies. Coming down together, their corporations’ raging adrenaline smoothed out into serotonin and other endorphins, further encouraged by the simple joy of prolonged skin to skin (and feather to feather) contact. They took turns sighing. Then one would chuckle, squeezing tighter, followed by nuzzling. 

They breathed together, reintegrating with their five basic senses, which now seemed quite small, yet somehow soothing to reengage. Like getting back into the comfort of your own private room after the enormity of a concert, club, or festival. They settled into their bodies again, warm blankets on a chilly morning. 

“Anything else you imagined?” Crowley prompted next to Aziraphale’s ear. “Before we go down?”

Aziraphale considered, threading his fingers through Crowley’s messy waves, as though any amount of combing could ever straighten the windswept nest of them, now. “I quite liked the sixty-nine, actually.” 

“Oh really?” Crowley smiled. “Was trying to put you off your game with that bit, another advantage for me in our little wager. You’re normally not much for it.” 

“Quite. I’m afraid no matter how much you reassure me, I feel so heavy when we do that. Too bulky, even when you’re on top, and the idea of lying astride you...” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s lips with a pair of shushing fingers, and the demon was made to swallow his protests with a grumble. Aziraphale kissed his cheek. “My preamble had a point, dearest. Up here I feel weightless, uninhibited in a way I hadn’t dreamed was possible.” He swallowed, flushing slightly. “As such, the sixty-nine-ing was most enjoyable.” He kissed Crowley more soundly. “Thank you for that, as well, my love.”

“How about another go, then? Without the free fall this time?” 

“Yes. Let’s.” 

It was a funny position to adjust themselves into. Once released from the embrace, Aziraphale felt incredibly naked and exposed. But he didn’t have time to dwell on those initial feelings, because Crowley lounged backward, rowing his wings through the air with his hands behind his head, as though he were stretched out in a gondola and his long, powerful, black wings were the oars. 

Aziraphale watched him float along this way, swaying side to side as each of his wings tipped into the air, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Silly serpent."

Crowley preened and circled back around Aziraphale, looking smug and relaxed. “Hop on, angel,” he grinned and waved his arm down the expanse of himself, inviting. 

Aziraphale chuckled. This felt so ridiculous. But with a flap of his wings and a slight twist of the hips, he was laying in the air above Crowley, looking down at the delicious expanse of his muscular body, the twilight clouds, and darkening earth below.

Crowley’s golden eyes were wide and focused as he stretched one long arm up and held Aziraphale’s cheek, smoothing his fingers down in a slow caress of Aziraphale’s jawline, neck, and stopping to stroke his collarbone.

“I love you,” Crowley said, suddenly. Aziraphale blushed and smiled as Crowley’s fingers retreated.

“And I you,” he answered, then glanced down his own body, “how do you want me?”

“Let’s have the usual for both of us, yeah?” Crowley’s body was already making the adjustments, a firm arch of a cock craning towards Aziraphale, who nodded and changed accordingly. Aziraphale’s mouth grew wet at the sight of that familiar cock, his body reminded of the stretch of it inside him, the pounding of those hips. He shuddered and his wings pivoted so that he no longer gazed at Crowley’s beautiful face, but at an eyeful of Crowley’s delectable effort. He gripped the base and used it to pull himself down, lifting his wings high over his shoulders, so they wouldn’t get in the way. Taking Crowley in his mouth, smoothing his tongue over the hot flesh of him, Aziraphale moaned. He’d missed this. He hadn’t had Crowley from this angle for quite some time, due to the aforementioned discomfort with the earthbound version of this position. Just as he slid his lips lower, inching down and savoring… his whole body convulsed at the wet heat which suddenly surrounded his own cock.

Aziraphale popped off Crowley’s head and looked down to see that Crowley had tilted his chin back, opened his throat, widened his jaw just a touch, and swallowed Aziraphale down entirely in a single stroke. Aziraphale could see the outline of his cock in Crowley’s throat from this angle and his hips bucked at the sight, thrusting into tighter rings of wet, hot muscle as Crowley swallowed around him again. Aziraphale cried out and Crowley, damn him, was agile enough to take advantage of the moment by thrusting his own cock into the swell of Aziraphale’s cheek, demanding he get back to task. Aziraphale laughed and kissed his demon’s dick, wrapped his arms around Crowley’s hips, clung to his thighs, held him still, and swallowed him.

As they mutually sucked and swallowed, licked and moaned, their joined bodies did a few barrel rolls in the air. And they broke apart, laughing as their wings wrapped around each other in the tumble. They tried to keep their mouths connected to each other’s genitals and failed utterly. Aziraphale resorted to kissing and licking around Crowley’s groin, his scrotum, the sensitive places where his thighs met his genitals. 

By unspoken agreement, they assumed this sixty-nine was less about sexual pleasure and more about soothing one another’s parts and muscles. Exhausted from the rigors of their marathon lovemaking, (and it takes a lot to exhaust these two), they gave over to an effervescence. They tended to one another languidly, massaging each other’s legs, thighs, and buttocks with hands and mouths, generally making a big, luxurious show of it.

“Have we slipped into aftercare, then?” Aziraphale smiled into Crowley’s thigh.

“Seems like it,” Crowley murmured, sounding sleepy and blissed out.

“Mmm. Come up here, where I can see you.” Aziraphale tugged on Crowley’s knees, pushing them sideways through the air, to create a Crowley pinwheel atop his body. Crowley’s soft, black wings swept over his face; he was surprised the feathers felt cold to the touch. Then, Crowley’s beautiful golden eyes, dewy and lidded and dazed, looking directly into his own. Aziraphale loved that he could make Crowley look like that. He leaned up and kissed Crowley’s parched and cracked lips. 

\-----------

Crowley felt wrung out. He was wasted in the best way, dry-mouthed, sore, and a bit chilly. The sun was setting or had set already. Either way, it was darker than it had been, but not fully night and apparently there was only so long his corporation could ignore the realities of nature. Crowley stretched his body as he held onto Aziraphale’s leisurely kiss, hearing pops of joints and feeling blood flow returning to numb muscles.

“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley grinned. He didn’t know how else to express the momentousness he felt. The fact that they’d pulled this off without discorporating or worse, disappointing one another somehow, was (and Crowley didn’t use this word lightly) a miracle. He felt bonded to Aziraphale in ways he’d never quite been before. And he was proud of himself, proud of his angel. He coughed.

“You’re cold and dehydrated,” Aziraphale pronounced. His big hands and thick fingers rubbed Crowley’s shoulders and upper arms in a human effort to warm them. It worked somewhat; Aziraphale was holy warmth incarnate. And Crowley’s demon nature usually kept him toasty, but it warred with his cold-blooded serpent nature which could never be warm enough, really. The duality was an extra cruel existence when stuffed in a human shaped corporation with all its attendant nerve endings that insisted upon themselves. Despite his best efforts, Crowley shivered.

“Don’t have to be,” Crowley lifted his fingers to snap. Aziraphale stayed his hand, cupping his palm over Crowley’s fist.

“Let’s go,” Aziraphale said as his downy wing nudged forward, tugging and fluttering at Crowley’s sleek one.

“Alright, angel,” Crowley smiled and shrugged, his wing tips teasing at Aziraphale’s pushy feathers. “Had to end sometime. I know.”

Crowley touched down first, toes threading through blades of grass that still clung to the day’s warmth, even as dusk was fast becoming night all around them. Tucking his wings away into the ether felt unnatural after using them for hours on end. Crowley wriggled his nose as he did so, licked his teeth, tried to get comfortable with terrestrial sensations. Accepting the constant weight of gravity was a bit of a downer, to be honest. One look at his angel and it was obvious Aziraphale wasn’t adjusting any better.

Aziraphale was fully dressed. He looked up at the sky and did a sort of nervous roll on his feet, shifting from his toes to his heel. Looked like he might be adjusting to the confines of his shoes and he sighed. “I’m afraid normal sex might be a touch disappointing after all that?” His inflection rose on the end, clearly wanting Crowley’s opinion without asking. 

Crowley smiled and hooked an arm over Aziraphale’s shoulder. “‘S’no such thing as ‘normal sex’ with you, angel.” 

“Hush!” Aziraphale shooed him. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Crowley stepped in front, making soft eye contact over the rim of his glasses. “Take me missionary,” a kiss to Azriaphale’s temple, “in the dark, under your dusty, tartan covers,” he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s huffy, retreating midsection and tugged him close. “Right after your bedtime tea, with biscuit crumbs in the corners of your lips.” Aziraphale laughed and shook his head. Crowley caught his chin with finger and thumb, gave him the best fuck-me eyes he could manage (and Crowley’s _were_ the best), and promised, “I’ll feel every bit as wonderful as I did up there.”

Aziraphale hummed and blushed with a pleased little smile. Then he turned in the direction of their home and hooked his arm through Crowley’s for the walk. They made it about five paces before Aziraphale added, “I’d like to try _up there_ again sometime, though, don’t you think?” 

“'Course. We should maybe save it for special occasions?” 

“Mmm.” Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, indeed. Like Tuesdays.”

A laugh, single-syllable and throaty, punched from Crowley’s chest. “Always enjoyed a good Tuesday, myself. Looking forward to it, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Gorgeous mile high art!](https://twitter.com/Aphrodisiacbean/status/1273399896746459137?s=20)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ @Sintinas](https://twitter.com/Sintinas) on the Twitter. It's a super self-indulgent TL of GO retweets atm.


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